


All That Remains Unspoken

by prairiecrow



Series: What Are Friends For? [4]
Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Christmas, Clothing Kink, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Party, Secret Attraction, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, high society - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A preview of an upcoming chapter of "Heart, Are You Great Enough", although it stands quite well on its own. Michael and Kitt attend the Foundation's Christmas party, and Michael finds himself quite unprepared for what he sees — and feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Remains Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Are Friends For?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/14626) by Anax. 



Michael Knight was paused at the head of the wide staircase leading down into the mansion's largest ballroom, which was decked out for a Christmas soiree and packed to the walls with the brightest lights of Los Angeles society, when a familiar voice spoke from just behind his right shoulder: "Good evening, Michael." 

He turned at once, a wide smile lighting up his face as brightly as the glittering tree that adorned the centre of the room. Kitt's voice was a little deeper now, its overall feel a little huskier, but the timbre and the upper class Bostonian accent were the same, although everything else about him had changed so dramatically. "Hey, bud—" 

The cheerful greeting died in his throat. He was that unprepared for what he saw, although an instant's reflection informed him that he shouldn't have been surprised at all. Kitt had, after all, developed quite a taste for fine clothing since finding himself transferred to and trapped within the body of evil genius James Rosseau, who had been a handsome bastard in spite of his many other personal failings. 

"I must say," Kitt observed with another top-to-bottom-and-back-again visual scan of Michael's dress suit and a sardonic lilt in his voice, "that you clean up rather nicely." 

"Ah." Michael finally found his voice. "Thanks. So do you." Which was an understatement and a half: in a trim black Gucci suit that gleamed with its own subtle lustre Kitt was a vision of male beauty, slender and perfectly composed, only the fall of blond hair across his brow providing a touch of sartorial defiance to convention. The sight of all those neatly aligned layers of clothing made Michael's hands itch to reach out and start tearing them open until he reached the warm body beneath, until he could feel the pulse of Kitt's breathing and heartbeat against his own naked skin.  

But Kitt's gaze had already moved beyond him, toward the packed ballroom at the foot of the stairs. "That's certainly quite a crowd, isn't it? Devon must be exceedingly pleased that so many high society luminaries responded to his invitation." 

"I guess so." _Dammit, start looking at something besides him!_ He forced himself to turn and survey the sea of expensively clad and festively happy people, finding nothing to compare to what was already at his side. "I don't know about you, but I feel a little out of place." 

Kitt laughed softly, glancing back up at his partner with a twinkle in those wide green eyes. "If you think you're a fish out of water, consider the fact that twelve days ago I wouldn't have even fit through the door, much less been able to sample the champagne fountain." 

He managed to return the AI's fond smile with a wide grin which (he hoped) covered his own powerfully conflicting impulses. "Is that where you're headed?" 

"Actually, I'm supposed to find Devon — he's promised to introduce me to some of the scientific sponsors of the Foundation, as his nephew, if you can believe it! As long as they haven't had too much champagne themselves they should provide an excellent night's entertainment." His scanning gaze locked onto the far end of the room. "Ah — there he is now. You're welcome to join me if you'd like." 

Michael retorted with his best _Oh, come_ ** _on_** look. "Sorry, pal, but I've gotta pass. An evening spent listening to scientists go on and on about their favourite theories doesn't sound like my idea of a good time." 

A lighter chuckle. "True. I apologize for suggesting it." Another sweeping glance over the crowd. "There appear to be more than enough beautiful young women present to provide you with plenty of… amusement. I'll leave you to it, shall I?" 

He started down the stairs. Michael stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. "Kitt —" But when those clear green eyes darted back to his face, slightly frowning, he realized that he couldn't say the first words that came to his lips: _The only one I want to be with tonight is you._ Instead he substituted a quip: "Try not to drink too much champagne, huh? I don't want to have to drag you out of here under one arm, singing drunken songs about the Ferrari you left behind." 

A wider smile on those narrow lips, heartbreakingly bright. "I'll keep that in mind," Kitt rejoined, inclining his head in a little bow, and two seconds later he'd set off into the crowd on an intercept course for Devon's conversational group, leaving Michael to survey the crowd in his turn and come to the conclusion that yes indeed, there were more than enough women here to make for extremely happy hunting.  

He headed for the champagne fountain, resolutely telling himself just how lucky he was. 

THE END


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